Tormented
by Twist
Summary: PG-13 for a rather graphic description of the Crutacious Curse. The sequal/partner to 'If Only...'. I think I might make this a series. R/R as always! Oh, did I mention it's about Voldie?


Voldemort sank slowly down into the ripped and frayed green armchair in his study. He put his head into his hands and snarled silently. That damned alter-ego of his was getting in his way. I was not an unusual occurrence for the newly risen Dark Lord. It had happened many times in the past, but had become more frequent after his recent ascent to power.

"Why do you haunt me the way you do, bastard!" he screamed to himself.

"You had the perfect opportunity to get rid of me when you got your body back, and you didn't. It's more your fault than mine." The fiery voice inside his head seemed even more angry and frustrated than ever these past few days.

"I could separate us once and for all, you know. I could end my guilt forever by giving you five minutes of freedom before killing you. That way I could enjoy my first murder without feeling at all guilty." The anger in his 'voice' had reached such a pitch now that he could hardly stand it. He had to separate them, now, now was the time.

The voice stayed silent within his mind as he chanted the incantation. Something was telling him he shouldn't do. That Riddle would escape and he leave him with an enemy greater than Dumbledore and Potter together. An enemy that had power and knew his secrets...

He had no more time left to think, though. The incantation was finished and the dark brown eyes of Tom Riddle were glaring defiantly up at him.

"Do you know, Riddle, what I am about to do to you?" Oh, the feeling was bliss. He was about to kill someone, lead them painfully into the black oblivion of death and no voice was screaming at him that it was wrong, to leave. 'I could get used to this,' he thought.

"I have an idea." The victim's voice was quiet, but had the same fiery tone Voldemort had heard for a painful fifty-two years.

"Let's test out your theory, shall we? See if you correct?" The Dark Lord said this in a mocking tone, turning and seeming to walk away. Quite suddenly, he whirled around and pointed his wand at Riddle. "Crucio!"

Riddle's body contracted suddenly from the sudden wave of pain that rocked him. The curse was like being hit by a train; a train that had burning razors for wheels and steel spikes that clawed at your flesh while the weight of the train crushed your bones and your organs into a fine powder. For Voldemort, the heaven lasted for ten minutes. For Riddle, hell lasted ten eternities. When Voldemort lifted the curse Riddle's whole body was shaking and his throat sore from screaming.

"That hurt, did it Riddle? Pity it didn't last as long for me as I'm sure it did for you. Ah well, we can't always get what we want, can we now?"

"I'm not giving in, bastard. May as well give up now." His voice was meant to sound careless, but it was so hoarse and pained all emotion was lost behind the torments and aches that had seized control of his nerves.

"My torture didn't crush your spirit did it?" asked Voldemort, feigning disappointment. "What a pity. Perhaps something more... realistic is needed, no? Perhaps some real wounds to remind you not to cross me? If I'm lucky, you may bleed to death. I have servants who know everything there is to know about torture and would gladly take you off my hands. As much as I would like to finish you off," here he heaved a large fake sigh, "I am a busy man and don't think I have the time to do so."

"I'll bet you are," Riddle growled, his eyes narrowing to brown slits. "Isn't that all you do? Kill people? I know what you do in your spare time, I could tell the whole wizarding world what you do to Muggle children..." The threat hovered in the air for several moments. Voldemort's eyes blazed and Riddle continued to glare at him. He knew what was coming, knew he couldn't prevent it. Why try to stop it? He couldn't. Why try?

"How?" Voldemort's voice was too clam to have good intentions. Even the soft words that could be barely heard over the crackling of the fire told Tom that he had no chance of survival, no chance now. "My followers know all about it. They aid me. What would they do? You're trapped Riddle. Perhaps I just need to make that clearer to you? Crucio." 

The bright red light once again consumed the shaking form on the floor, and the thin body once again contracted. He didn't scream this time. He hadn't the strength. All he knew was he wanted to die. To drop off the face of the earth and die. He didn't care whether he went to heaven or hell. He just wanted this torture ended.

And then, mercifully almost, it ended. His breathing was ragged, uneven and shallow. His sweaty ebony hair hung into his eyes, he tried to brush it away but all strength he may have had seemed to have abandoned his body and he just lie there on the floor, weak and shaking.

"You're completely vulnerable now, Riddle. Helpless. I could do anything to you. Beat you, torture you more, starve you, lock you away. Anything I desired." Oh, how he was enjoying this... "What else? Hmmm," Voldemort was fully enjoying himself now. A whole world of opportunities was facing him. All the curses he had read about and never used. One that slowly killed the respiratory system, eventually suffocating the victim. Another that made the receiver go permanently blind, no cure or counter-curse for that one, his mind lingered on it for a moment. Good, but not harsh enough. Perhaps that combined with something else. What else? There were too many to pick from. But there was one, one that had been invented and permanently banned from all civilization. Now he was grateful for that book in the basement...

"The argonius curse. Like a permanent Crutacious Curse. What better than that?" Even though Voldemort had whispered this quietly to himself Riddle had heard and the fear in his eyes became more evident than ever before. "Yes, I think this will work quite nicely."

Riddle backed away weakly. "You wouldn't use that. That was banned thousands of years ago. It's worse than any of the Unforgivables," his eyes narrowed. "May I also mention that it uses more energy than any curse known? Where would that leave you?"

"I'll manage," Voldemort hissed, raising his wand arm. "Say goodnight, Riddle. Noctumus permanus!"

Tom cringed, he knew that curse, he'd seen it performed. 'Doesn't look like I'm going to be seeing much more now,' he thought grimly to himself. 

"You handled that quite well," Voldemort's taunting voice drifted across the room. "I don't think you'll do nearly as well with this one. Argoniousus!"

Again, the wave of pain rocketed through his body. He could hardly hear the words Voldemort was muttering. This was what the rest of his life was going to be like, all-consuming pain for years on end. He didn't know that he had been apparated down to the dungeons where he would face endless more torments in the years to come. He just knew he wanted to die...

  
  


A/N: Hiiiiiiiiii. Wasn't that depressing now? Minerva and Tom are gonna kill me if I don't make this a series so tell me what you think! R/R! Hope you liked!

P.S. And then that she-bear just chased me down and made love like a rabbit in the hot sun... (don't ask)


End file.
